


Revolutionary Love

by Indus



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Community: kradam_holidays, F/M, M/M, Multi, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indus/pseuds/Indus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of arranged marriage, and how it's important to fight an unjust system even (especially) when it works in your favor. There are rape/non con and suicide warnings but they are to OCs and happen off-screen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revolutionary Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutoutawindow](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cutoutawindow).



> Suicide and noncon are mentioned as offshoots of arranged marriage scenarios, so please take note!
> 
> Beta: laurahellomoto

Kris always knew he wouldn’t marry for love. Older sons in the nobility didn’t get to marry for love. Instead they were at the mercy of the match-maker. But that’s not to say that there was no choice involved. But the amount of choice you had depended on the amount of gold in your bank account, and the Allens were a little short on gold. They had a beautiful estate, more importantly in Kris’s opinion and pretty much only his opinion a warm wonderful relationship with their tenants, but not much gold. And whatever gold was there was tied to keeping up the estate and giving their tenants livable homes and wages in exchange for tending the land. There wasn’t enough anyway, and Kris knew that not only was he more or less at the mercy of whatever the match-maker and her apparently scientific methods came up with, but he had to make sure he was a nice enough husband to get some money out of his husband or wife. Enough money to keep the estate going until they recovered from the horrible hurricane a few seasons ago, and to grease the wheels so that Daniel had the choices Kris didn’t.

“It could be worse, you know,” his best friend Katy reminded him on those few odd days when he became morose about it. And she knew. Her older sister had made a similar sacrifice for their family and, well, no one knew exactly what happened at her house but two years of marriage had made her a thin, pale imitation of the vivacious and affectionate blonde who had made the best hot dogs when she babysat him. And her sacrifice had been mostly in vain; while the twirling moustache bastard she called her husband had paid enough to rescue the O’Connells from the effects of the horrific Arkansas storm, Katy didn’t have any more choices in her marriage than Kris had, but being a woman, she had more to lose. The laws still had not changed to criminalize some of the horrific things that statistically were more likely to happen to wives than husbands.

When Katy said things like that, and cried a little for the older sister she’d pretty much lost, Kris let his occasional black moods go and returned to his normal optimistic demeanor. He’d put an arm around her and hug her if that wouldn’t be the biggest scandal to hit Conway since little David Archuleta was matched to this awesome guy who was prone to things like swearing and rock and roll. He’d take Katy to the Allen temple instead and they’d hand out food to their tenants, and Kris would bring out his guitar and they’d have an impromptu barn dance. It was kind of awesome.

*

“Psst!”

Kris stopped walking down the hall and turned towards his brother’s room. The door was opened a crack, and Daniel’s face was peering out. “What?” he asked in a normal voice. “Are you okay?”

“Shhh!” Daniel grimaced. “Dude, you smell like shit. I don’t know if there’s time for a shower, but you should at least empty half a bottle of dad’s cologne or something before you go downstairs.”

“Why?” The Allens were relaxed nobility, so Kris rarely dressed for guests. Well, Kris rarely dressed up period.

“Madame Abdul is here!”

Kris would later swear that everything stopped for a second. His heart, the grandfather clock a few feet away, and even the steady movement of his ginger tabby’s tail. But time went on, as it always did, and he found himself in his room without any memory of getting there, of anything but the unbearable sympathy in Daniel’s eyes. He dressed on automatic, but wore a tie to acknowledge the occasion.

When he came downstairs, he realized that had he not come into the house the back way, he would have known something was up immediately. The foyer and entrance hallways were abuzz with the sounds and sights of a good dozen visitors, with servants carrying large trunks and valises up and down stairs. Kris was familiar with all of the Allen servants and tenants, so he knew that most of the people in his house had to have come with their guests. Which was weird, because even though everyone knew Paula Abdul seldom wore less than three outfits in a day, and a good amount of makeup and accessories to boot, he’d been there when she’d visited the O’Connells and there hadn’t been anywhere near that number of people.

Catching the sleeve of the butler, who’d known him since before he could remember, he hissed, “Who are all these people?”

Taylor hemmed and hawed a bit. “Madame Abdul is here, Mr. Allen. And um, she brought someone with her.”

Someone. Kris couldn’t breathe. “Oh God.”

“Mr. Allen, Kris…” Taylor’s mouth twisted. He’d watched Kris grow into an amazing and caring young man, but this was still the boy who’d begged for cookies and who’d cried after falling out of a tree. He watched Kris square his shoulders and walk into the front room with his heart in his mouth, and then turned to the young valet who’d accompanied their guest. “Mr. Ratliff?”

Tommy Ratliff shook his spiky blond hair, which had gone a little limp in the hot and sweaty effort to unload and unpack Adam Lambert’s… entourage, out of his eyes. He glanced at the older man, taking in his respectable light pants and shirt, not as stuffy as an East Coast butler but certainly more formal than Tommy’s leather, and twisted his lips into something approaching a smile. “Yes, Mr.?”

“Taylor, please. I was wondering…” This was a huge breach of etiquette, and Taylor didn’t do breaches of etiquette. But this was Kris, too, and that was more important. “Mr. Lambert, is he a good”-

Tommy smiled, immediately reassured about the house, the family. “He’s a good man.”

*

Kris fumbled with the doorknob, which was smooth with the years of usage it had seen. He wasn’t shy; in fact, he prided himself on being the kind of mellow person who adjusted to almost everything easily. But there was everything, and then there was meeting the man you were sort of almost engaged to, and the woman who had paired the two of you up. Although it was unusual to meet the two together; from what he remembered Paula Abdul generally came over and broke the news first, then introduced the couple. He wasn’t ready for this. But here it was.

His first impression was shiny. There was nothing gaudy about the man’s ensemble, but his black hair was gleaming, a dark stone glinted in his ear, and his clothes were basic black but edged with something glittering. Kris could glimpse patent leather boots under his long pants. But it was the stranger’s eyes, a mesmerizing and piercing blue, that stopped Kris in his tracks. He felt measured, weighed, but then the stranger smiled widely. Even his teeth were shiny white.

Kris had thought about this moment for years. He’d heard somewhere that girls planned their weddings from when they were little but he didn’t think it was a gender stereotype as much as a personality trait. Because Kris had, from a very young age, liked to think of meeting the man or woman he’d spend the rest of his life with- come to think about it, there’d been some shiny glittery aspects to those childhood fantasies too. Then, when Sophie O’Connell had come home to visit for the first time, ten degrees paler and ten pounds lighter, with a deadened look in her eyes, Kris’s thoughts of this moment had darkened. Somewhere in there, he’d build up a little resentment of the guy who’d have all the choice, and much of the power, in the family that Kris wanted to build.

But Kris was easy-going and had a bottomless well of affection for everyone he met, so that resentment died a quick and painless death at this man’s smile. He smiled back, blushed a little. “Um, I’m Kris?”

“Is that a question or a statement?” A voice asked peevishly from the side. Kris flushed and turned, suddenly afraid that this was the man. But no, the speaker was at least a year or two younger than the age where the matches were generally made.

“Neil,” the man said, in a tone that was gently chiding. Kris turned back to him, flushing even darker at the slight smirk that adorned the older man’s face. “Hello Kris, I’m Adam. Adam Lambert.”

*

Kris wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but almost immediately after the introduction Neil managed to get Ms. Abdul and Kris’s family out of the room. Kris just hoped that he’d acknowledged their presence. It would be embarrassing if one’s husband’s first impression of one was a gaping fish!

But when he was alone with Adam, the perfect opportunity to not seem like so much of an idiot, he couldn’t think of anything to say. “Uh,” he tried, a couple of times, only to give up the attempt.

Adam bore the attempts with ill grace, pretending badly that he wasn’t getting a lot of amusement from Kris’s inability to be coherent. But the sight of Adam biting down his own smirk gave Kris the courage to protest. “Hey, it’s not that funny.”

“Try it from my point of view,” Adam pointed out. Then, seeing Kris narrow his eyes, Adam sobered. “Look, I know this is strange, but I thought it was only fair to do it this way.”

“It?”

“We both know that if Paula comes to you with a match, your family isn’t really in a position to protest. Mine is, but that doesn’t make you look that great and while I don’t want to marry someone I can’t connect to at all, I’d hate to ruin your reputation or make you look bad just because we’re not compatible. So I hit on this.”

“This?”

“This. We’re just going to get to know each other. Nothing formal’s been done. And if things work out, then at the end of this weekend, Paula takes the match to our parents. If not, my family has a great vacation, and we give yours an invite to return the visit next year, and then we probably never have to see each other again.”

Kris stared at Adam. He’d never heard of anything so… brilliant! He smiled and then suddenly grabbed Adam in a big hug. “That’s genius!” Then, realizing what he’d done, he blushed again and stepped back. “Um, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Adam smiled and pulled him in for his own affectionate embrace. And in that second, with Kris’s nose pressed into Adam’s nicely muscled shoulder, Kris realized that he wouldn’t be saying no at the end of the weekend. Later, when asked, he’d freely admit that he’d probably fallen in love with Adam right there.

It’s pretty much that moment when things started looking brighter, and life started moving a whole lot faster than it did before. And that was where Kris and Adam’s story began.

*  
Their families weren’t very subtle about leaving them alone, and it would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t been so much fun. Kris had barely started showing Adam around when Adam saw his piano. From there it was a hop, skip and a jump to Kris playing his guitar while Adam belted out lyrics in a voice that would have brought Kris’s heart to his knees if it hadn’t kind of already taken residence there.

He was still not sure how they got from there to the impromptu barn dance, but that’s where the first signs of mismatch came in. Adam was enthusiastic to party but Kris’s feet were already hurting from dancing by the time Adam showed up in something bright and altogether inappropriate for a barn dance.

“Um,” he said dumbly, taking in the feathers.

Adam beamed. “Gorgeous, isn’t it? Cassidy makes these, he’s totally brilliant. I have to introduce you to him.” There was a not very subtle glance at Kris’s plaid when he said that, but Kris ignored it. He’d been able to avoid his mother’s attempts to dress him for at least 15 years, he could manage a six-foot, built hot guy who was wearing skin-tight pants, glittery shirt and a jacket decorated with what looks like real peacock feathers.

“Um,” he said again, looking for a polite way to say no way in hell.

“Come on,” Adam said, and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the barn dance. It was pretty funny watching Adam try to copy the moves, and to give him credit Adam laughed more than anyone else did. It was also awesome to see his staff join him up there, and watch as Adam put his arm around his brother on one side and his valet on the other. A lot of nobles and not so nobles treated their tenants and domestic staff like- like some medieval form of servants, and Kris hated that.

Kris tried to keep up, but no one had Adam’s stamina to party, and he bowed out an hour or so later. He threw water to Adam so his maybe-prospective husband wouldn’t get dehydrated and then picked up a viola he just happened to have lying around. Okay, he might have wanted to show off a bit. Judging by the way Adam’s eyes widened and something hot sparked off in them, setting off weird butterflies in Kris’s stomach, it worked.

When the parents cried exhaustion and, together with Paula Abdul, abdicated their parental responsibilities for the night, Adam grinned. “Now let’s get this party started.” Tommy Joe, the groom, Monte, and a couple of other people brought instruments out and all of a sudden the music changed to something faster and almost tribal. Adam’s smile turned wicked, and he turned it on Kris. “Do you want to dance?”

Kris looked around at his bewildered tenants. “Weren’t you?”

“That was super fun, and I want to do it again tomorrow, but right now let’s do my sort of dancing!” Adam grabbed Kris and pulled him close. “Like this.”

It was weird. They were way too close, and he had to stand there with Adam’s arms around him the whole time. But the beat of the music seemed to vibrate through his body, and Kris’s arms went up and around Adam of their own volition. His head tilted back as the lights of the barn dimmed. He stared into blue and his body just… moved. It was primal and beautiful and totally scandalous. Kris kind of wanted to keep doing it forever.

They danced like that, close together, their bodies almost touching and their arms loosely around each other, and did not take their eyes off each other. The musicians played, if anything, faster, but Kris found himself moving slower and slower, until he and Adam were barely even swaying.

It was kind of perfect, as first kisses went. No one’s leg went flying in the air and there weren’t any convenient fireworks or swelling of orchestral music. But there was a rhythmic beat thrumming in Kris’s head as Adam’s hands moved slowly up his body and into his hair, then tugged his head up. His own hands rose up to cup Adam’s, to hold but not to push away, and then they were kissing sweetly, their mouths closed and lightly pressed against one another in tentative beginning.

Slowly, and with a soft sigh, Adam raised his head to examine Kris. The younger boy wasn’t quite sure what Adam saw; all he felt was confusion and bewilderment and an overwhelming urge for more… oh. This one wasn’t so sweet or soft. This time Adam took, his lips fiercely moving on Kris’s and his tongue persuasively licking Kris’s bottom lip until Kris opened up to him. Then Adam dove in and sucked, and Kris moved his leg up, almost climbing Adam in his attempt to get closer, more…

“Kris!” Katy exclaimed in horror, bringing him back to his surroundings. By now, all the older people had gone home, but that meant that a lot of the Allens’ young friends and tenants were still there, avidly watching the scandalous display in front of them. “Oh God,” Kris said in agony, and fled.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone when Paula presented the match the next evening, or when the Allen’s and Lamberts immediately accepted. But six months later, both sets of parents refused to leave the wedding reception until it was over.

*

“Do you have any idea what you know, you’re supposed to do?” Katy asked, blushing almost as hard as Kris.

“No!”

“Do you think he does?”

Kris thought over that for a second, remembering Adam’s confidence and poise, his skills when they kissed. “Um, I think so? You know that they do stuff differently in the coastal cities- the dancing and sex and clothes.”

“ And Adam’s not one for conventions,” Katy agreed. “Plus you know, even here, it’s different with those who know that they’re wealthy enough to choose. They don’t have to be above reproach.” There was bitterness in her voice, and Kris ached to hear it. Paula had been to her house with a match that seemed little short of spectacular, except that the prospective husband was about 20 years older than her. Adam had gone a little green when he’d heard the name; apparently Gokey was some kind of famous, or infamous, evangelist in California. But at least he didn’t have a reputation for cruelty; though he’d been divorced a couple of times, none of the exes had spread negative gossip about him. Plus he was richer than… well some rich person that Kris had read about in history books, and he had already committed enough funds to ensure that the little O’Connells would have the choices their sisters didn’t.

But Kris didn’t say any of this. He was one of the lucky ones, he knew, because he’d kind of fallen in love with his match and it was patently obvious to the aliens that Neil Lambert swore were out there that Adam loved him back. Plus Adam had kind of said it when they had taken a break while horse-riding and made out near Tiberius Ravine. Kris blushed just thinking about it, and Katy rolled her eyes. “You know, it’s not going to go so well if you can’t even think about sex.”

“Katy!”

“Or talk about it with your best friend.”

“Shut up.”

“Let’s see how much redder you can get. Sex, sex, sex, sex.”

“What are you two talking about?” Adam asked, fascinated, then he laughed as the two of them jumped about a foot and flushed bright red. “Okay, now I have to know.”

Because Katy had no shame, she told him. “Sex.”

Adam’s smile dimmed as he looked a bit closer at the two of them. “Oh.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Katy snapped, her eyes rolling again. Sometimes Daniel wondered aloud if doing that so frequently could cause her eyeballs to fall out, but Daniel was kind of weird. “We’re talking about you two having sex, not the two of us. I don’t want to have sex with someone else’s husband. I’m not even sure- never mind.”

But Kris knew what she was going to say, and his heart twisted. Adam must have felt something similar, because he softened and stretched out a hand towards her. “Katy, I’m not stupid. My parents told me how it works around here, and I know how to make this way more pleasurable than painful for Kris, I promise. But I think it’s stupid and outdated and almost criminal that they expect you to marry people you barely know and have sex after not really having been allowed to touch anyone your whole lives.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Katy’s face closed off. The O’Connell’s were made of strong stuff; Katy said it was because their ancestors were from Ireland. Kris knew it would be impossible to get her to talk about her fears now.

But Adam kept trying. “I have this friend, Alisan.” He pointed towards a young, fierce woman with short, spiky hair. “She’s not been married, but um, she lives in LA and we don’t usually wait there.” He spared a quick glance at Kris, obviously gauging his reaction, but Kris kept his face blank. He wouldn’t let Adam’s past come between them; that was just counter-productive. “She’ll tell you anything you want to know, if you ever want to talk to her.”

Katy’s face was still stony, but after a few seconds she nodded. And Kris knew this would be the last they’d have of this conversation.

Adam did too, because he then grabbed Kris’s hand. “Come on, it’s almost time for us to say goodbye to everyone and leave in the horse carriage. Wait till you see what I did with it.”

“Oh God,” Kris groaned. “It’s just a stupid horse and carriage. Please tell me there’s no fireworks.”

“No fireworks. But how do you feel about streamers?”

*

It was almost five a.m. by the time they got to their room in the hotel, but Kris was wide-awake and energetic. But when they stepped into the room and confronted the huge platform bed, with the rose petals sprinkled generously over the covers, and the candles littering the various tables and mantles, their flames seeming to move with the romantic music he could barely hear, Kris found himself wishing he could claim total exhaustion and fall asleep immediately.

Adam looked at him carefully, then sat on the bed, bringing Kris to stand between his knees. “Hey. Hey, hey, look at me. It’s okay, we don’t have to do this.”

Kris collapsed onto the bed next to Adam and said something into his hands. “What?”

“I want to do this,” Kris said, his eyes screwed shut. Then, opening them, he spoke up. “I want this. I’ve wanted it since I walked into the room and saw you in those boots. And I sure as hell wanted it the day you kissed me in the bar, and every other time you’ve kissed me since then. I’m embarrassed as hell because I don’t know what to do, but that’s not going to change if we do this tomorrow or next year, and I’d really rather we didn’t do it next… mmph.”

Adam had laid down next to Kris while he spoke, and then, when he started rambling, the older man stopped Kris from speaking by sealing his mouth with his. Adam kissed Kris with familiarity and passion, knowing just how to tilt his mouth, tug at his bottom lip with his teeth, so that Kris whimpered and clutched at his shoulders and breathed just a bit faster.

They didn’t speak then, as Adam slowly undressed Kris, taking off his own clothes at the same time so that Kris didn’t become uncomfortable. When Kris tried to help him with fumbling fingers, Adam took his wrists with one large hand and put them in his styled black hair, letting Kris clutch him. Then he lowered Kris onto his back, and bent over him, keeping his weight on his palms, which were on either side of Kris’s head, and his knees.

Kris forced himself to breathe in as he felt Adam kiss his way down his neck, and then lower. He couldn’t watch Adam, and stared at the ceiling instead as his hips began to thrust into the air, and then into Adam’s warm, wet mouth. He gasped something, maybe Adam’s name, and something hot and powerful rising inside of himself, taking his breath and his vision and threatening to tear him apart. “Adam,” he gasped. Just, “Adam.”

It didn’t stop there. When he was trembling and limp and just barely breathing again, Adam spread something warm and liquid over his fingers, and then put his fingers somewhere Kris hadn’t even realized that people touched in pleasure. Kris found himself reacting to Adam’s touch, especially when Adam touched something that made him see the fireworks he’d prohibited at the wedding, but this time they were behind his eyelids and all around them so that he could taste their light and their sparkles on his tongue.

This time, when Adam came inside him, he found himself comforting Adam as his older, more experienced lover shattered in his arms. And then, as light began to creep over the horizon and into their hotel room, they held each other, and Kris felt at home.

*

Kris was lucky, he knew that. He knew that every time he went to bed with Adam, and woke up next to him.

But he was especially aware of it when he went home to Conway for Sophie O’Connell’s funeral and held Katy as she cried over the loss of her sister. Adam stood next to him, glaring at the stupid old gossips who condemned the young woman they were burying because she’d walked out of her home and into the nearby lake, with 20 pound weights tied to each of her ankles.

It was only a few days later when Adam had sat Kris down in their study and told him his future plans. “So you know how nobles get a seat in Congress?”

Kris nodded, wondering where this was going. “Yeah, and they almost never use it.” It was one of those things that made him glad that nobles were generally an apathetic group; God only knew what they’d do if they actually tried to make laws and stuff.

“I want to change that.”

“What? Why?”

“Sophie.” At that, Kris sobered. “I went with you to her funeral, and saw her family, and I couldn’t help wondering how many women and men live and die like she did, with no laws protecting them. You shouldn’t be forced into domestic slavery because your family has a little less money or power.”

“Why are you telling me this? Do you think I don’t know all this?” At that, Adam blanched and he took a step back. Kris rushed to continue. “Come on, Adam, you know that you’re all I didn’t even know to want. But you gave me a choice, Adam, you actually made it possible for me to say no, and I’ve never heard of anyone doing that. My dad didn’t even do that with my mom. So I know what’s wrong with the system. I also know that Sophie’s husband is an evil, bad man, and that all of Conway’s known that for years but no one’s done anything even though the O’Connells are one of the most liked people in the area. So what do you think you’re going to do on your own in Congress when you take on one of the biggest and most established systems in the world?”

Adam leaned forward and kissed Kris quickly. “Have a little faith in me.”

Faith was something Kris had always had in spades. And while that faith had sometimes been met with disappointment, it never did with Adam. It turned out that a lot of the club-hopping, pierced and branded friends of Adam that Kris rarely saw sober were actually nobles. And somehow Adam inspired them to stop getting high and instead put their talents, energies and critical thinking skills to some use. It would take time to change the way the country, and from there the world, worked, but Adam and his friends were slowly and surely building a movement.

Kris couldn’t really be a part of that. He wasn’t eloquent enough to write Adam’s speeches, and didn’t dress the part of a politician’s spouse. But he made up for that in support.

And then he found his own niche. One night, about six months after Sophie’s funeral, Tommy ushered in a cloaked and dripping Katy, who was one month pregnant and fleeing her abusive and controlling husband. It turned out that Gokey’s congregation was something more of a cult, and Katy was sure that if she returned to Arkansas or went anywhere really in public, she’d be killed. Gokey didn’t have a reputation for cruelty because everyone was too afraid of him to talk about the kind of man that he was.

She wasn’t the only one. And as Adam went on television and debated marital equality with whiskered old men and pearl-draped women, or sat in smoky meeting rooms as he rolled out nationwide campaigns, Kris bought a small, nondescript building and gave shelter to men and women who hadn’t been quite as lucky as he was. Katy lived at the building and ran it, so that Kris could go home every night and travel with Adam when necessary, but he went out there at 3 am to tackle emergency plumbing issues and risked his life to bring domestic violence victims home.

It was after a particularly grueling day that Kris practically fell into bed. Adam was already there, but not quite asleep. “Kris?” Adam asked, his voice showing that he was actually wide-awake.

There was something in his tone that banished Kris’s exhaustion. “What?”

Adam went on, almost casually, but still with that desperate edge in his voice. “The new bill we’re submitting, it won’t pass this year or next year, but I think it will, eventually. People are becoming more aware, friendlier towards us and our cause.”

“Okay…”

Adam went on in a rush. “Part of the bill will give men and women in existing marriages the option to terminate regardless of class or financial situation.”

Kris went still, trying to understand. Then, getting it, he rose to his knees and straddled Adam, bending down to kiss him almost savagely. “You idiot. Do you really not get it after all this time?”

Adam looked at him, his usual confidence gone.

For the first time, Kris understood his own power. And reveled in it for a second. Then he leaned down again and touched Adam’s nose with this. “Stoopid,” he murmured affectionately. “I choose you.”

 

THE END


End file.
